If there’s one thing I truly despise about my condition, it’s not knowing whether or not I’m having pseudoexacerbations or an actual exacerbation of my condition.
Pseudoexacerbations are just like exacerbations or relapses, but tend to last 24 hours or less and are triggered by your body fighting off an infection or healing from something non-MS related. And yes, it is possible to have one pseudoexacerbation after another for several days, which mimics an actual exacerbation.
This makes it very difficult to know whether or not I need to call Dr. G and say, “Hey! I think I need an IV-SM drip.”
I have had terrible sleep for the last several nights, littered with nightmares. This has lead to days with more seizures than normal because adequate sleep is required to have days that are primarily seizure-free. Last night was no exception. In fact, Adam let me know that he was up with me most of the night and that I’ve been both talking and having seizures in my sleep.
This is very not good. If I can’t sleep, seizures will eat me. Ok, that’s a little dramatic, but I think you get my point. Sleep, real good sleep is necessary, or the seizures just keep getting more frequent and longer. Seizing hard enough during sleep that I wake the person next to me, when I’m on a memory foam mattress, despite being on the right dose of meds, leads me to believe that either a.)I have some other illness of which I am completely unaware, or b.)I’m having an MS flare.
GRAWR!!! I’m supposed to go to Berkeley this weekend to visit abitbattyhere and mgnficntbastard!!! WTF, body!?! I HAVE JUST STARTED GETTING A LIFE! I HAVE GUITAR LESSONS ON WEDNESDAY. I ALREADY MISSED LAST WEEK BECAUSE OF SEIZURES!
Fuck. I already missed last week because of seizures. I’ve already waited a week.
I remember this game. When we wait and see, we wait and see me get worse until I’m seizing all the time and I finally give in when I can’t do anything at all because my optimism holds out until I’m hospitalized.
I’m already hurting from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep almost, even with the extra meds. I’ve stopped vaporizing weed to make me feel better unless I’m hurting to the point that I’m either crying or about to start crying, because I’ve stopped seeing the point, and I’ve started feeling suicidal again… like all of this is pointless and like I’m a cursed creature that for whatever reason, God hates.
Yeah. *sigh* It might be time for the drips.